Falling or Flying
by JennaBennett
Summary: Tony & Ziva trapped in an elevator. How could I not write about it? A post-finale two-shot. Based largely on my shipper heart's reaction to this quote:'It was no accident that fan favorites Tony and Ziva ended up in an elevator at the tail end of NCIS Season 9 ... which makes sense, considering that most people take the stairs during an evacuation'
1. Chapter 1

_Falling or Flying (because Elevator Love was just too cheesy)_

**AN: I'm back! I will be back with Castle fics sometime over the next couple of weeks too. I find these characters difficult to write, I just don't have enough movie references in my head to do Tony justice & Ziva's confused version of English isn't exactly my thing. But, after watching the finale, & reading this quote, I couldn't get it out of my head, '**_**It was no accident that fan favorites Tony and Ziva ended up in an elevator at the tail end of **__**NCIS Season 9**__** ... which makes sense, considering that most people take the stairs during an evacuation**_**'. This will probably be a two-shot. Unfortunately, I'm not sure when shot two will be up – technically I'm meant to be working on assessment… **

Awareness returned slowly. It came with flickers of light behind her eyelids. It came with soft moans of pain, a gentle voice – familiar – urgent, but soft, calling her name. Mostly it came with the sensation of agony, of hurt, softened by a careful touch, fingers brushing against her cheek. She stirred a little, a small groan unconsciously escaping her lips as she did. She ached, but the sensation wasn't entirely new to her. She was tough, as tough as person could be whilst retaining the essence of their humanity. She wasn't a machine, she was human, and as familiar as the hurt was, it was still that, _hurt_. She wanted relief. She wanted to drift back to the darkness. Let it claim her. As she sunk back further into her mind the voice interrupted her again.

"Ziva. Ziva. You need to wake up," his lips were at her ear, insistent, warm breath tickling her skin. "C'mon," he sighed, gripping her upper body and dragging her a little more upright. It did the trick. The movement heightened her awareness. She pulled herself together, allowed reality to stake its claim over her.

"Tony," she hissed, blinking her eyes open, the light harsh and unforgiving. He grunted noncommittally in response. She softened a little. "You okay?"

"Fine," he grinned, "It's you I'm worried about, all lazily passed out on the floor like that. Gibbs doesn't stand for slacking off on his team". She rolled her eyes and slapped the back of his head – gently, there was a slowly bleeding gash oozing on his forehead after all. He narrowed his eyes a little, "hmm, I suppose Gibbs would've approved of that".

"Your concern is touching," she muttered as his mouth twisted back into its characteristic grin.

"So, now that you're awake maybe we should work on a way of getting out of here," he hedged. As fun as being trapped in a decimated elevator with Ziva was, he wouldn't say no to a toilet, or a shower, or a doctor for that matter. His head was kind of throbbing, an uncomfortable rhythm that left the edges of his brain feeling a little fuzzy. It wasn't the best sensation. He wasn't all that concerned though, he'd certainly had worse on the job, much, much worse. He casually assessed Ziva once again. She seemed okay now that she was conscious. He had been seriously worried to wake and find her largely unresponsive. She'd come to fairly quickly and her usual glowing personality was in place. He noted that she was looking at him in much the same way, carefully cataloguing injuries to ensure that they really were both fine. He took that as an invitation to stare at her a little more determinedly. Her left arm looked a little limp, she was seemingly absentmindedly running the fingers of her right hand along it, coaxing it back into full functionality. There were grazes running randomly over the snatches of exposed skin. She had really borne the brunt of the falling debris as they'd dived to each other and subsequently the floor of the elevator as the explosion had blown. The explosion. Oh god, the rest of their team. They were outside? They'd been evacuated, right?

"McGee, Abby, Gibbs, they left the building, yes?" she asked softly, her eyes on him, echoing his thoughts. He shrugged. Hard-ass as she was, she looked a little scared. He felt the need to be reassuring, he cleared his throat, pulled himself from his thoughts.

"I think so. Gibbs was out with Cole, searching Vance's car," he froze temporarily, the realisation that those words sounded less than optimistic. "It's Gibbs, the man's practically invincible. I'm sure he's fine."

"What if he's not?" she uttered the words so softly. There was a broken undertone to her voice that made him want to sweep her into his arms and murmur reassuringly until they were rescued. But that wasn't them. It wasn't his place – whose place was it really? Wasn't like there was anyone else. That didn't necessarily give him the right. Ziva David was no man's woman. She was the most independent fierce creature he knew. "Tony," she paused, drawing an almost strangled breath, "what if he's not? What about McGee? I think he was still inside. Did anyone go down to Abby's lab? What if she didn't get evacuated? We should have gone down there first…" He cut her off with the gentle yet firm press of his hand over her mouth. She sighed into his hand and he edged closer, pulling her to him with his free hand. He released her mouth and gingerly pressed her into his side in an awkward embrace.

"They'll be okay," he murmured against her hair. "We're okay, right? I think we've borne the worst of it. We're trapped in an elevator for crying out loud. The others, our family, they would have run, or at least had the sense to dive behind something sturdy to shield themselves." She relaxed into his side a little bit.

"Thank you, Tony," she sighed, the faintest hint of relief colouring her tone, her hand coming to find his and squeezing it. He intertwined their fingers and tugged her closer. They rested for a moment, breathing steadily and looking pointedly at the wall. No need to ruin things with reality.

The elevator light flickered. At first Ziva thought it was her head, her eyes dying on her for a moment. It flickered again, and again, before fading away and plunging them into tentative darkness.

"There's a chance we should've scoped out an escape route slightly better before that happened," Tony muttered with a groan.

"Helpful," she retorted, pushing to move from his grip and get them out from the rubble and the damn elevator. He yanked her back.

"Oh no, stay here. Keanu Reeves will be along any second to save us," he winked, it was lost to the darkness.

"Huh?" It was somewhat of a knee-jerk reaction, she was utterly perplexed, it was probably what kept her from struggling against him and getting up – that and that alone. It certainly wasn't the warmth – heat almost – radiating from him and spreading through her body that kept her willingly encased in his arms.

"Keanu Reeves. _Speed_. Seriously, it's a classic – yes, I'm using the term _very_ liberally in this case. But he's a badass cop who saves people in elevators from bombs…" She pushed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him.

"I am familiar with it, Tony. I don't see how it helps us."

"Never mind," he pouted with flair.

"You are such a drama princess," she griped.

"It's drama queen," he flashed back.

"Queen implies adult, you are not an adult. Therefore, you are a princess," she reasoned coolly. He rolled his eyes, grateful to the darkness as she didn't elbow him to the ribs in response. Probably for the best that she missed that little gesture.

He released his grip and nudged her gently. She rose to her knees and made her way through the debris, hands seeking a way out. He mirrored her, tentatively pushing on the walls and the floors. His fingers found an indent in the cool metal, the seam of the door, running from top to bottom. He reached out and pulled Ziva to him. She came willingly, her fingers tracing the door.

"You pull, I push. Mmm, that almost sounds dirty," he chuckled. She shook her head, ran her fingers across his chest teasingly.

"I like to push," she breathed. He stiffened a little under her touch before regaining himself.

"That's hot. But I like it to be special and the location's not really doing it for me, so how about we open the door," he smirked. She let her fingers linger slightly as she pulled them away from him, the gesture wasn't lost on him, his smirk widened.

They tugged on the door, nails and fingertips straining under the pressure. It didn't budge. They re-angled themselves, alternating between both pushing and pulling in opposite directions to pushing and pulling in the same direction but to no avail. The door was jammed, firmly. It wasn't going to open with anything less than the jaws-of-life. Surely there were firemen on their way. It's not like the Naval Investigative building could be blown up without an intense search and rescue taking place. Surely. They weren't exactly quiet. They'd be heard, someone would come. They just had to wait it out.

X-X-X-X-X-X

After their escape attempt they'd settled back on the floor, situated further away from each other than they had been before. Both were silent, the conversation had lulled to nothing and they were lost in their thoughts. Admittedly, their thoughts centred rather pivotally on one another but neither was prepared to make that admission. It was just another day on the job, neither was in mortal peril, it was no time to be making death bed confessions of adoration.

Ziva knew. She was a woman, she was perceptive. She was aware. She had known for a long time now that there was something there, something more, something deeper. Something she never really intended to act upon as long as they both lived. What was the point, Gibbs had rules, and never date a co-worker was just plain commonsense. There was no way it would add to a workplace dynamic, it just meant conflict. The job came first, _this_ job always came first. It was home, it was family, it was life. That didn't mean there was undeniable chemistry between herself and Tony. It just meant there was no incentive to act on it. She really did care about him though, in a way she cared about no other man. He had told her to evacuate, she had refused to without him, that in itself said enough – it said everything. She'd grasped his hand and they'd stepped into the elevator together. They were undoubtedly in this together. She wanted to be sitting in his arms again, not opposite him in the wrecked elevator, uncomfortable, her knees curled into her chest. It was dark but she could make out his frame across from her, head back, knees mirroring hers.

He rested his head on the wall, the fuzziness increasing. His brain was throbbing relentlessly now. Straining to pull the unmoveable doors open had left him feeling woozy and lightheaded. He drew his hands to his head and bit back a moan. He didn't want Ziva to worry, he didn't want her to see him vulnerable, exposed and injured. He needed to man up and get her out, get them both out. He was grateful to observe that she seemed largely unaffected, anxious given her posture, but physically fine. He'd been worried about her wrist earlier but it hadn't prevented her from putting her full weight into unsuccessfully wedging the doors open. That was something. He was a silver lining kind of guy. The silver lining to the fact that his head was combusting internally was that Ziva was the picture of health. Relatively speaking anyway. The pounding in his head was immensely irritating. It was making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. He scrunched his eyes tightly shut and wished it to ebb away. It didn't. He willed harder still and found himself slipping away. His head lolled to the side and the pain slipped away, the darkness inviting him in.

X-X-X-X-X-X

The silence drifted on. Ziva lost in her thoughts and Tony _lost_.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Apparently, I can't work on my assessment until I get this idea completely out of my head. Hence, Part 2 is making its appearance much sooner than I expected. Hope you all enjoy it, the response to the first part blew me away – thanks so much for reading & reviewing! I immensely appreciate it. Let me know what you think about this instalment. **

_The silence drifted on. Ziva lost in her thoughts and Tony lost. _

She didn't notice that Tony had lapsed into unconsciousness, despite the silence being so uncharacteristic. Given their situation it was easy enough to assume that he was lost in the depths of his thoughts, just as she was. That it in itself should have been some indication. _Depth_ of Tony's thoughts – seriously? Deep was not a term she would use to describe Tony. Of course she knew that there were many layers to him and that the persona he let off was not a true reflection of the man beneath. But deep? She practically snickered at the thought. It just fit the sarcastic dynamic of their relationship, Tony was a complex man, but that was something that she would never admit – least of all to him. Suffice to say, Tony's unconscious state went unnoticed by her for much longer than she cared to admit. Not that time was exactly flying in the silence. It could have been mere moments, that didn't stop it from feeling like a lifetime. She was a terrible partner. Tony was slumped against the wall opposite her, clearly passed out and she failed to notice. To say she was having some self-deprecating thoughts in response to her ill-attention was an understatement. She was furious. There was no one to blame but herself.

Awareness of Tony's state came to her slowly though. She rubbed her legs, the nervousness she felt at their predicament itching to get out. Her fingers brushed her pocket and she froze momentarily. They had their phones, duh. How had that slipped her notice completely? She yanked it from her pants, the screen buzzing to life under her fingertips. No coverage, typical. But at least it provided a steady source of light. Her eyes still locked on her phone, she spoke.

"Phones, Tony. How on earth did we forget about our phones? Clearly we are as bad as Gibbs in the technology department." The only response to her words was silence, she was expecting a quip about Tony excelling at technology – practically being able to do McGee's job, that sort of thing. She was definitely not expecting silence. She waited a beat longer, gave him a moment to form even a semblance of a response. Still silence. The silence was no longer peaceful, it was fierce and dangerous. "Tony," she growled, hoping for a reaction, anything. Still overwhelming silence, it pulled at her brain, pinched the fibre of her being. She lunged forward, thoughts forgotten, her dimly lit phone still clutched in her hands, her only concern – him – still before her, eyes closed and head motionless slowly oozing dark crimson.

Tony was consumed by thoughts of his own. Imagined fantasies of elopement with a mysterious bride-to-be. Except she wasn't imagined, nor a mystery, she was Ziva, blushing and beautiful. It didn't come as a shock to find her the centre of his broken fantasies. There was no one else who could do the role justice. The injured mind was a devious thing, it wouldn't let him return to the actual subject of his fantasies – alive and well in the elevator with him – but it teased and tempted him with visions of her hand in his, radiant and beaming. Totally unfair.

Hands were on his neck, desperately seeking a pulse. His mind challenged it, the hands were there to draw him in for a deep kiss, lips moving in perfect unison, hands clutching fiercely pulling them further into one another. It was too good of a fantasy, he sank further into it, away from the frantic plea of his name on her lips and into the imagined sensation of her _lips_ on his lips.

She was practically beside herself, hands on his wrist, his neck – anywhere, everywhere – to find that beating pulse. His head was still leaking blood, surely that was a sign his heart was still pumping it around his body. There had to be a sign. Her mind drifted to First Aid training. There was a logic to this, a sequence, steps to follow. There was order to the chaos consuming her, order would help quell her frantic mind, keep her sanity in check. DR ABC, something like that. Okay, so 'D' was danger – was there any danger for them to contend with? Hmm, precariously perched in an elevator above who knows what, coated in rubble and pierced with shrapnel wounds. Definitely no danger there… If she wasn't so stressed she certainly would have rolled her eyes at the convoluted thought processes she was undertaking in her attempt to assess Tony's condition. 'R' was for response and there was very little of that going on, she hadn't heard so much as a grunt from him as she had plunged to his side and frantically checked his pulse. 'A', airways, she pressed an ear to his chest, noted the steady rise and fall and counted her blessings, _their_ blessings. That was a small victory. 'B' was breathing, oh that meant that she needed to make sure his airways were clear before checking his breathing. She pried his mouth open carefully, used the dull light from her phone to ensure that there was no obstruction – there wasn't, another victory. 'C' was compressions but seeing as his heart was beating and he was steadily inhaling and exhaling air it didn't really seem necessary. She kissed his forehead gently, offering a whispered plea to wake up and pulled away. They really needed to get out, rescue team or not. Tony needed a doctor. Breathing and heart beating didn't lessen the sense of urgency.

X-X-X-X-X-X

Ziva assessed the sharp metal cage of the elevator methodically. The walls were sturdy, thick, largely undamaged by the blast. A section of the roof had blown away but she was unsure she could get up to it from the rubble on the floor. Even if she did, where would it lead to? An elevator shaft that she would have to scale? It was certainly an option. She wondered if there was anything else…

Moving around the elevator sourcing an escape route seemed like a good idea. There was nothing to lose but time and apparently they had a fair bit of that. She ran her fingers along the cold metal walls as she made her way to the far corner, under where the roof had been most damaged. So far they'd kept away from it, sticking mostly to the side they'd fallen to, where the rubble was least and the doors remained sturdily shut beside them. She placed a foot unto a particularly sizable chunk of rubble, it appeared to be a vast section of the roof. She pulled her other foot onto it and the ground swayed precariously underneath her. She lunged backwards, jumping at the door, fighting for sturdier ground as the rubble beneath her shuddered away into nothingness. The falling rubble opened up a hole in the base of the elevator, plunging it and Ziva into the darkness of a four-storey fall. She struggled fiercely, gripping the jagged edges of the hole with all her might, fighting for purchase. Her grip finally stuck and she dragged herself over the sharp rim of the absyss to find herself panting, relatively unharmed and safe once again in the confines of the elevator. She saw a flash of light and glanced behind her as her phone plummeted to the basement floor.

With that section of the floor unstable, there was really nothing left to do but sit and wait it out for their inevitable rescue – or starvation. Or… there were other alternatives to the scenario but she really didn't want to broach them. Imagining Tony slowly bleeding to death was not going to help her state of mind in the slightest. She huddled in beside him, wrapped her arms around him and waited for rescue. This was her new plan. She couldn't climb out with the floor so unstable. She had to stay in the little corner of steady ground – with Tony – and hope that someone would come to rescue them, and soon.

She drifted off, the adrenalin of pulling herself from the hole and imminent death wearing off as she sat, still and aching. The fall had left her with deep scratches on her ribs and hips that pulled when she moved and hurt regardless. She was jolted from her fitful slumber by the sound of voices, meticulous and organised, shouting instructions in the corridor adjacent to the elevator. She wrenched an arm away from Tony and pummelled the metal door.

"In here, we're in here," she shouted frantically, her voice largely drowned out by her fists. "We are injured. Help, please help us!" Her yells were effective to some degree as Tony's eyelids fluttered and he released a low groan.

"Shhh," he slurred. "Sleepy-time, Ziva. Too much noise," his words were soft, pushed together and barely coherent. Still, her face lit up and she hugged him with a ferocity that surprised even her.

"You are awake," she gasped breathily. "You scared me, Tony."

"Mmm," he murmured lazily in response. "I was having a good dream. We eloped. You looked beautiful." Apparently his internal filter had been injured, he failed to notice. Ziva blushed fiercely into the darkness, unwilling to loosen her grip on him even in her embarrassment. She tried to form a response, something that didn't make her sound like a foolish love-struck teenager. She had nothing.

"Whilst you were busy dreaming, I was trying to get us out. I almost died, there's a giant hole in the floor over there, falling through it was not fun," she finally responded. If he was going to be honest then so was she. Albeit, her particular brand of honesty was slightly less revealing.

"You got hurt," he managed, concern well and truly colouring his tone, her fingers reaching up to ghost her jaw.

"I am fine, it is you we need to be worried about," she brushed him off – without literally brushing him off of course, his fingers were leaving her skin a tingling mess of fire in their wake. It was a burning bliss that left her aching for more.

"I – uh – just resting," he groaned, trying to pull himself further upright. She pressed lightly on his shoulders holding him there, evidently he was in considerable pain.

"Do not even think about lying to me," she growled, concern clearly ringing behind the serious tone.

"Okay, okay. So, I've a slight migraine situation going on. Don't suppose you packed painkillers in those deep pockets of yours?" he admitted cheekily, the edges of his lips lifting slightly to grin, but falling short, a tight grimace of pain in its place.

"All I had was my phone," she reluctantly replied through slightly clenched teeth. Foolish man, trying to crack jokes when she really needed to ascertain his medical condition now that he was conscious enough to be discussing it.

"Had?" he queried, an eyebrow quirked.

"Had," she confirmed, "I dropped it down that hole," she added with a quiet sigh.

"Shame," he nodded, clenching his teeth as the movement caused a jolt of pain to shoot down his spine. "Ouch," he exhaled with a wince. Ziva pressed a finger tentatively to the wound on his head, attempting to discern if the worst of the pain was stemming from it. She was interrupted in her efforts by increased noise in the corridor once again, reminding them that rescue was just around the corner.

"Help," she screeched urgently, her voice shrill and commanding. It got through, the corridor silenced and she repeated her cry.

"We got someone in here, Boss," a gruff voice floated through, muffled by the wall of metal. "Should we get the jaws-of-life and cut them out?"

"Power's still connected, just check if it'll open," a second voice joined the fray, commanding and assured. A soft ding resounded through the dishevelled elevator and the doors glided open.

"O," fell from Tony's lips before Ziva turned to him, her eyes flashing furiously.

"You idiot, did you even try to open the door!" she exclaimed.

"How is this my fault? We were both trying to open the stupid door," he retorted, his every word laced and dripping with heavy sarcasm.

"My fault. Clearly it is your fault. You're the one always trying to prove you're technical with McGee," she shot back bitingly. Tony opened his mouth to throw another argument at the flaming woman besides him, angry yet still gripping him tightly, but their would-be rescuer cut him off.

" – err, would you like a gurney. You guys look a little worse for wear… I can leave you here to bicker if you'd like?" he shrugged.

"Seriously? Get us a damn gurney," Tony looked at the man like he was an utter idiot, before shifting his glare back to Ziva. She would have had her arms crossed across her chest if they hadn't still been wrapped so tightly around him, she couldn't find it in her to pull back just yet. Beside, he'd placed a hand possessively over hers at some point in the conversation. He didn't seem to be trying to deter her in any way.

A pair of EMTs rolled a gurney to the doorway of the elevator and took them in with a practiced glance.

"We can stand," Ziva protested, pulling herself and subsequently, Tony to their feet. They stumbled a little, carefully making their way to the gurney. Ziva moved to lay Tony down and walk herself. He protested ardently, tugging her into his arms and onto the gurney. An EMT opened his mouth to object but Tony shot him down with a fierce glare. The EMT chuckled with a brisk nod of his head. He began to manoeuvre the gurney through the debris coating the corridor.

"So, how long have you two been m…" he started, a friendly, genuine shape to his tone.

"We are not married!" they uttered in unison, followed by a frustrated sigh falling from both their lips, accidently in sync once again.

"Only in my dreams," Tony added, a soft afterthought. A small giggle burst free from Ziva's lips and he pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the top of her head. She tightened her grip on him a little in response.

"Mmm, mine too," she whispered with a soft smile and reassuring squeeze of his hand.

X-X-X-X-X-X

Navigating the stairs on a gurney wasn't exactly a walk in the park, but with manpower and patience they finally managed it. Naturally, Ziva had protested, wanting to walk. The EMT had breezily assessed her open wounds and battered skin and shook his head ardently, it wasn't going to happen. Tony happily chatted with the team of men carrying them as Ziva groaned into his shoulder, embarrassed to be escorted in such a way.

Gibbs met them on the outskirts of the building, stoic as always. He raised an eyebrow at their position, limbs entangled, locked around one another. Ziva made to move and pull away, her intentions clear. Tony merely tightened his grip on her in response.

"Rule number five, don't waste good, Boss," he smirked. Gibbs eyes widened, a little shocked. He pulled himself together and let out a resounding laugh. Stepping towards them with a grin, he slapped Tony's head and walked away, tossing a casual,

" – see you both tomorrow," over his shoulder as he retreated.


End file.
